


Therapy Dogs and Comic Books: The Ficlets

by newtedison



Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Artist Newt, Depressed Newt, Domestic, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Ficlet, Ficlet Collection, Fluff, Graduation, Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Post-Graduation, Requited Love, Sequel, Service Dogs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-03
Updated: 2018-02-03
Packaged: 2019-03-13 05:17:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13563657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/newtedison/pseuds/newtedison
Summary: A series of chronological ficlets showing the events after my other fic Therapy Dogs and Comic Books. Focuses on Newt and Thomas' life at Paige University and after graduation.





	1. Ficlets: Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! It's almost been two years since I finished Therapy Dogs and Comic Books. Crazy, right? Lucky for you guys, The Death Cure has stirred a lot of emotions in me, so I decided to channel them into this happy fanfic. I nicely wrapped up the life of Thomas and Newt after high school, and ficlets seemed like the perfect format to do that with. I hope this makes someone happy!

**Living on Campus Together**

Newt grunted as he lugged the last suitcase of what seemed like a million up the rusted metal steps to his new dorm room, his mother patiently following below him, groceries in hand. It’s move-in day at Paige University for transfer students, and the sun has not taken kindly to them. It beats down high in the sky, sending ripples of heat in the air over the asphalt and causing Newt’s tank top to stick to his back. His mom has been fanning herself with the orientation handout, and Lola has been panting up a storm -- it was too hot to keep her in the car, but the constant stairs and walking haven’t been helping her either. The three of them are thoroughly exhausted.

He finally reaches the top of the stairs and plops the suitcase down with a heavy  _ thud _ , taking a few seconds to catch his breath before pulling out the handle and dragging it down the hallway to his new home, Room #126. He opens the door and sets it down next to his easel, and stops to look around at the mess he now has to unpack. He sighs, but a part of him is excited at the possibilities and the future that this room represents. A few years ago, he never could have imagined himself moving into college, and  _ especially  _ not on a scholarship. But he’s here, and he can’t help but smile to himself as he starts to visualize the next two years of his life.

Before he can get too caught up in his daydreams, Lola trots into the room, followed closely by Newt’s mom, who seems delighted that they’ve finally brought everything up. She sets the groceries down on Newt’s bed and huffs out a quick breath.

“Well, I think I’ve met my workout quota for the month,” she laughs. “I’ll have to tell the neighbors to start their morning laps without me for a while.”

Newt also laughs, but then is suddenly hit with a small wave of sadness as he realizes that it’s time for them to part ways. He already said goodbye to his dad before they left -- there wasn’t enough room in the car for all four of them -- but doesn’t feel quite ready to say goodbye to his mom just yet. But he also knows that this is where he needs to be right now.

As if reading his mind, his mom suddenly pulls Newt into a tight hug, slightly rocking back and forth as she rubs her hands over his sweaty back.

“Oh, Newty, I’m so proud of you,” she coos, her voice slightly wobbling. “You’ve worked so hard to get here, and it’s exactly where you’re meant to be. I want you to enjoy every second of your two years here.”

“Thanks, mum,” Newt murmurs into her shoulder, “I’m sure I will.”

She pulls back, giving Newt a once-over, her eyes watering but a proud smile plastered on her face. 

“Take good care of Lola,” she adds, bending over slightly to pet her. “We spent a lot of time together while you were at school. I’m gonna miss her, too.”

“Course,” Newt smiles, imagining Lola and his mom playing catch in the backyard.

They finish saying their goodbyes, Newt trying his hardest not to cry. It’s hard not to when his mom already is, but he wants to start the year off strong, so he keeps the tears in.

Newt takes a moment to look around his space and get an idea for where to put all of his stuff. Because of his therapy dog accommodations and his scholarship, Newt was given the rare opportunity to live in an on-campus apartment for one. It comes with a bedroom, a bathroom, and a small living room. It’s a lot of space for one person and a dog, but he imagines he can make good use of it, especially since Thomas is going to essentially move in the first chance he gets.

The thought of Thomas reminds Newt to check his phone, something he didn’t have time to do because of all of the unpacking. Non-transfer students have already been on campus for a few days, so Thomas is already set up and moved into his dorm room. They saw each other a few days ago before Thomas moved in, but there is something special and exciting in knowing that they’re finally both going to be at the same college at the same time. 

 

_ T: I think I’m getting super powers. I can sense that you’re on campus _

 

_ N: Or maybe I just told you that I was on my way? _

 

_ T: Shhhhhh I have super powers _

 

_ N: Sure, Tommy. Do you have any super strength that will help me unpack these boxes? _

 

_ T: I’m too busy using my super speed to rUN TO YOU RIhjkjdsmmmmmmmmmm _

 

Newt looks at the phone in confusion, wondering what demon possessed Thomas’ keyboard. He waits for a minute before the typing bubbles pop up again.

 

_ T: Lesson learned; no texting and running _

 

_ N: Please tell me you ran into a pole _

 

_ T: I did not _

 

_ T: … _

 

_ T: It was a person. A whole human person _

 

_ N: Oh. Oh that’s much worse. _

 

_ T: It’s a casualty I’m willing to take _

 

Newt can’t help but smile at the idea of Thomas literally barreling over people in his rush to get to Newt as if they hadn’t seen each other only a few days ago. Thomas was impulsive, filled with love and compassion, and a truly terrible runner. It was only some of the things that Newt loved about him.

Newt decides to unpack while he waits for Thomas. He starts with the groceries his mother left him, packing the leftovers of his favorite meals in his shiny new microfridge. Once he’s done with those, he clears off the rest of his bed and starts unpacking his comforter, already feeling like he could use a comfy bed to lay down on.

While he’s wrestling with his sheets, he feels his phone ringing in his back packet. Contouring his body to keep the sheet in place, he manages to rangle the phone out and cram it between his shoulder and ear, not even bothering to check the caller I.D.

“Hello?” he starts, as if he isn’t sure who’s on the other side.

“WHAT’S YOUR ROOM NUMBER?” Thomas screams, his voice half part elated, half part out of breath. For someone who does track, you would think Thomas had better control of his cardio.

“Room 126,” Newt answers, still fighting with the sheets. He has one arm attempting to tuck the sheet under one corner, one elbow keeping the other corner secured, and his legs pushing down the last two corners below him. One wrong move, and it could all collapse. 

Newt doesn’t even hear a goodbye from Thomas, just the sound of an ended call. He rolls his eyes and lets the phone drop to the bed, inching the last corner of the sheet so it reaches underneath the bed.  _ Almost there. _

Suddenly he hears the sound of a loud  _ SLAM  _ as his door hits the wall, the impact of it causing some boxes to shift slightly. It startles Newt so much that he jumps, which causes him to lose the grip on the bottom half of the sheet, sending it up and over his feet, making him tangled up.

“Honey, I’m home!” Thomas declares, arms spread wide, making the grandest of entrances. His smile is as wide as the Nile is long, and it’s infectious. Newt gives a quick smile back before remembering the predicament he is now in.

“Your timing is terrible,” Newt remarks, attempting to kick the sheet off of his feet while still keeping a firm grip on the top. 

He hears Thomas laughing as his footsteps come closer.

“Here, I got you.”

Thomas folds the sheet off of Newt’s feet and tucks the corners back under the bed, Newt finishing the top part. Slowly, Newt gets off of the bed, trying to move gingerly so as to not disturb this new delicate system. He stands straight and takes a look on the bed, sighing in relief.

“Looks like it’s finally in place,” he says.

“Great!” Thomas replies. “In that case-”

Thomas interrupts himself by tackling Newt onto the bed, wrapping him in a side hug. Newt laughs as Thomas snuggles into him.

“We’re finally both at Paige!” Thomas cheers, wiggling Newt slightly. “This is the best day ever.”

“Love the enthusiasm, Tommy,” Newt says, feeling a kiss on his cheek.

Thomas gives Newt a quick squeeze.

“This is gonna be the best year ev-”

Thomas is interrupted by the sheet popping up on all four corners, covering them both.

 

 

**Newt Meets Some Friends**

Thomas helps Newt unpack and set up his dorm, the space now completely decked out. The living room has become a dedicated gaming space, with a small table for board games and a corner set up with all of his systems, including the Nintendo Switch and a PS4. Of course, he also brought his Wii so they could still play Smash together. There’s also a corner set up for Lola, complete with a dog bed and toys to keep her occupied while Newt is out. His bedroom is set up with an easel and a smaller TV for watching movies in bed, and his bathroom is looking pretty nice as well. Newt can already feel himself calling this place his second home. 

Okay, maybe his third home, but he’s not sure if people are allowed to count as homes, too.

It’s a couple of days later, and Thomas is taking Newt to meet his friends from the video game club. Newt had already met Thomas’ roommate George and some members from the track team when he visited in the past, but Thomas usually had reserved Newt’s visits for just the two of them. This will be the first time Newt actually gets to meet and spend time with Thomas’ friends. He’s excited and a little bit nervous to become more assimilated onto the campus this way.

Thomas holds Newt’s hand as he leads him into the club room, which is located in one of the student lounges. There are vending machines on one side of the wall filled with candy and soda, perfect for loading up on sugar to get an adrenaline rush before a game. To the left, a Monopoly game is set up, with guys who look like they would be business majors carefully examining the board, holding up their properties as if they have real-life value. Newt smiles as he continues to exam the room.

To the right, a circle of probably freshmen are sprawled out on the floor, with a set of Cards Against Humanity in front of them. The group looks over their cards carefully, one girl with fiery eyes trying to hold back her laughter as she places a card down. In the middle of the room, two sets of couches are set up with two different TVs. On the right side, an intense Overwatch session is taking place, with students standing behind the couch, cheering and giving instructions. On the left side, some members are setting up what looks like a Nintendo 64, getting ready for some vintage gaming.

All in all, the club looks like it’s right up Thomas’ alley; indoors, with air conditioning, and tons of people to interact with. Thomas is a nerdy extrovert with a competitive side, and Newt can see why he chose to join.

To Newt, however, it’s all a bit overwhelming. He prefers to game with no more than two other people, and without a crowd hovering behind him.

Still, Thomas seems excited as he tugs Newt’s hand along enthusiastically, so Newt tries to shove his anxiety down as Thomas walks up to the people setting up the Nintendo 64.

“Hey George, look who I brought,” Thomas says, something like pride on the edge of his voice. Newt holds back a blush.

George turns around; Newt recognizes him from the last time they met. He’s tan, with auburn hair and a sea of freckles dotting his skin. He smiles as soon as he sees Newt, and holds out his hand in a fist bump.

“Good to see you again, man,” he greets as they bump fists. 

“Same here,” Newt replies.

George turns to the rest of the group. “Hey, guys, say hi to Newt. s’Tom’s boyfriend. He goes here now.”

There’s a look that hits everyone’s faces on the mention of Newt’s name. Some of their eyebrows raise, and some of them share a quick look. Newt gets the suspicion that he’s been discussed here before.

They quickly regain their composure and greet Newt, some of them giving Thomas a side-eye while doing so. 

“Nice to meet you, dude,” one scraggly looking kid says. “I’m Harry. I heard you’re a hell of a Link main.”

“Is that so?” Newt asked, raising his eyebrows slightly. He can feel Thomas fidgeting next to him. Even before they were dating, Thomas had a tendency to brag about Newt to his friends. Newt found it endearing, yet slightly pressuring. “M’alright, I suppose. Tommy usually beats me most of the time.”

“Some-some of the time,” Thomas quickly replies. He gives Newt a quick slap to the chest. “Give yourself some more credit.”

“Yo, if this is Newt, then I definitely want to play with him,” another dude chimes in -- Newt remembers that his name is Steven.

Newt laughs. “Alright. Let’s have a round, then.”

They finish setting up the system and pop in the original Super Smash Bros. He sits next to Steven on the couch and, feeling the pressure, chooses Link. He hasn’t played this game as much as the Wii version, but he imagines he can get the hang of it after a game or two.

“Go easy on me,” he teases, “it’s been a while.”

Steven laughs. “No promises, man.”

They boot up a match and get started. Newt is a little rusty at first, and he feels the pressure from the talking-up that Thomas gave while he was away. But he remains calm under pressure and evens his breaths, focusing on the game. He loses some rounds while he gets his footing of the controls but manages to win a couple of rounds towards the end. Thomas, standing behind him, gives him shoulder massages between games as if he were a professional boxer.

“You got this, kid,” he whispers in his ear, using some strange combination between a Boston and New York accent. “Knock ‘em out, knock ‘em dead. Float like a bird, sting like a jellyfish.”

“I don’t think that’s how the saying goes,” Newt chuckles as he flexes his fingers.

“Doesn’t matter, long as you win!” Thomas replies, giving him a fat, wet kiss on the cheek to send him off.

They play a couple more rounds, Newt having some encouraging wins but ultimately losing overall. He takes it in stride, though, and soon he’s sitting down with the whole club to watch the live action Mortal Kombat movie. He leans his head on Thomas’ shoulder as Thomas wraps his arms around him. Newt remembers the days when this sort of contact felt like a miracle.

“Do you like the guys?” Thomas whispers, leaning his head down slightly.

“Yeah, they’re great,” Newt replies. “Feels weird to be the one introduced to a new group for a change, though.”

“That’s true. I should text Minho sometime. I miss that weird, muscly dude.”

“I’m sure he misses you, too.”

Thomas gives Newt a quick kiss on the head before returning back to the movie. Newt slides his arm across Thomas’ stomach and feels the way their bodies bend together and fit perfectly, every groove, despite their very different body types. He feels the way his head rests on Thomas’ shoulder, how the fabric of the t-shirt feels against his cheek. He breathes in and catches the unmistakable scent of Thomas; dirt, cologne, and, somehow, sugar. A scent he’s breathed in a million times, whether curled up on the couch together or sleeping side by side, or even wearing his hoodie when he’s not around. Everything about Thomas was comforting, reliable, trustworthy.

Newt decides that  _ yes _ , homes can be people, too.

 

 

 

**Draw Me Like One Of Your French Boys**

It’s about a month into the semester, and Newt already feels the work from his classes piling on top of him. The workload at Paige University is much more intense than at his old community college, and he’s struggling to find time to work on everything.

Which is why, at 4:00 in the morning, he is drawing a still life of Thomas in his dorm room.

“I’m really sorry that I’m making you do this,” Newt says for about the hundredth time in the last hour.

“For the last time, Newt, it’s fine,” Thomas replies, visibly trying not to move much as he answers. “We all forget about assignments sometimes. I know I do.”

“Yeah, but your assignments don’t require someone else to pose for you.”

“I wish they did. Labs would be way more fun that way.”

Newt chuckles as he imagines criminals posing for Thomas as he punches in numbers. Thomas decided on being a crime analyst, meaning that he studies the psychology and behavior of criminals to try and predict their moves and help bring them to justice. It’s a noble cause that makes Newt proud to call Thomas his.

“Still, I appreciate it,” Newt insists as he adds some touches to Thomas’ incredibly messy hair. “Not many boyfriends would be okay with being woken up in the middle of the night because their partner forgot to do their homework.”

“I’d rather be woken up by you here than sleep all night in my dorm alone,” Thomas smiles, winking at Newt from his spot on the chair. Newt can’t help but giggle.

Another few minutes pass, Newt going back to silence as he works on the shading of Thomas’ jacket, determined to work as quickly as possible so Thomas can go back to sleep. He knows that if the easel weren’t blocking his hands and Thomas could watch him draw like he used to, he would have fallen back asleep already.

“Have I ever talked to you about the Multiverse theory?” Thomas suddenly asks.

“Mm, no, don’t think so,” Newt replies, squinting at the easel.

“It basically claims that there is an infinite number of universes in existence, all containing realities different to ours,” Thomas explains.

“How so?”

“Well, the differences vary, since there’s so many of them. There could be a universe where we have a female president.”

“I’d love to see that one.”

“Me too. There’s also universes where we’re all fish people, or where super powers are real.”

“Those don’t sound as nice,” Newt chuckles. “Most superhero movies end in lots of infrastructure damage.”

“That’s true. But the point is, there’s an infinite amount of them. So in some universes, you might be biologically a girl, or a brunette, or even straight.”

“Alright, I don’t believe that last one exists.”

Thomas hitches forward as he laughs, slapping his hand on his thigh. It’s the first time he’s really moved in a few hours.

“Okay, sure, not that one,” he says through chuckles, putting himself back in position. “It’s crazy to think about though, imagining all the possibilities. There could be a universe where we’re all shaped like aliens. Or maybe one where a nuclear war destroyed the earth, and we’re all living in an apocalypse.”

“That’s definitely not a fun one,” Newt answers, looking back up from the easel to see which parts of Thomas he needs to finish drawing. “I like my world radiation free, thank you very much.”

“Same here. We could be living in a world where there’s toxic sludge everywhere, and we’re all mutants!”

“I don’t think that would be as cool as the X-Men make it look.”

“That’s fair,” Thomas sighs, leaning back in his chair. Newt can see the bags under his eyes from across the room; ones that he purposefully left out of the drawing. He looks at the easel and decides that it’s good enough for now; he’ll take whatever critiques his professors have at him, as long as he passes.

“Alright, you’ve suffered enough. Go back to bed.”

“Oh, god bless you,” Thomas groans, slugging his way over to the bed. He plops down on it face-first, and doesn't move an inch. “I live here now.”

“Quite literally, yeah,” Newt grinned. “You basically do.”

Newt tucks the drawing away into his portfolio and lightly shoves Thomas over before crawling in bed next to him and pulling the blanket over them. Thomas lazily turns over and cups his hand on Newt’s cheek. His half-open eyes examine Newt’s face, taking in every detail, always so observative and inquisitive. Even though Newt was just staring at Thomas for hours drawing him, his beauty never ceases to amaze him. And it seems that Thomas is feeling the same way as well.

“I’m glad we’re in this universe,” Thomas smiles, rubbing his thumb on the corner of Newt’s mouth. “It means I got to meet you.”

_ Three years with this boy, and he always knows just what to say and when to say it to make my heart stop,  _ Newt thinks to himself.

He smiles and squeezes Thomas’ hand, giving it a quick kiss.

“No matter what universe we’re in, Tommy, I’m always with you. I’m stuck with you like glue.”


	2. Ficlets: Part 2

**Round One -- FIGHT**

“I just really don’t see how you expect me to believe you didn’t realize she was flirting with you,” Next exclaims, spreading his arms before letting them slap at his sides.

“Because,  _ Newt _ , I wasn’t really paying attention!” Thomas answers, his head in his hands. It’s another late night for them, only this time for less positive reasons.

“Oh, that’s bullshit. You talked with her for practically the whole night. I don’t even know if you looked at my art once.”

Thomas pushes his chair back and stands up in one fluid motion, a rapid burst of energy. He points at Newt.

“Don’t you dare accuse me of that,” he says, his voice suddenly lower. “You know I’ve been supportive of your art since before I even freaking met you!”

“Yeah, but that was years ago, Tommy. Surely you must be sick of it by now.”

“Jesus, Newt, no! Never! Where is all this coming from?”

It was a solid question. One minute Thomas was standing next to one of Newt’s drawings at the student art exhibition, talking to his friend Rachel, and the next he was being pulled by the arm to the chilly outside air, where Newt asked him what the  _ bloody  _ hell was going on with her.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, eyes squinted.

Newt was about to answer when George came out from the door, shaking hands with Newt and congratulating him on being included in the show. Once he left, Newt turned back to Thomas.

“We’ll talk later,” he growled before storming back into the gallery, leaving a confused and anxious Thomas in his wake.

And now here they were, raising their voices as much as they could without waking the neighbors. Thomas felt angry, desperate, and horribly confused all at the same time. Sure, this was far from the first fight he and Newt had ever had; you don’t date someone for three years and expect to come out with no battle scars. But this one felt different; it was coming from a place that Thomas couldn’t reach, and felt completely one-sided, Thomas not so much arguing as he was defending himself against a barrage. It made him incredibly nervous.

“It’s coming from what I  _ saw _ , Tommy,” Newt answers, his hands balled up into fists. It’s not often that Newt loses his composure in this way; he’s usually incredibly grounded, despite his depression. That makes Thomas even  _ more  _ nervous.

“And what exactly did you see, huh? Could you explain that to me? Cause I’m a little lost here.”

“Sure,” Newt grins sarcastically. “I was walking along the gallery space, mingling, you know, trying to be a socialite like you.” Thomas rolls his eyes. “Then out of the corner of my eye I see you, and turn to see how you’re holding up. Suddenly, Rachel’s there! You know, the famous Rachel who is known for breaking up relationships and cheating on her boyfriends?”

“Okay, I know you’re mad at her but she is still my friend,” Thomas defends. “Her relationships have nothing to do with this.”

“Oh, really? So it was just a coincidence that she happened to giggle no matter what you said, and she was always rubbing your arm? That’s just a thing that friends do, right?”

“Look, even if she was doing those things, it’s not like I did anything about it.”

Newt’s eyebrows raise. “Exactly! You did  _ nothing _ ! You didn’t remind her that you had a boyfriend, or that you needed some personal space, or even that  _ she  _ had a boyfriend! You didn’t do any of those things! You just let her keep...touching you.”

“Come on, dude. So she rubbed my arm one or twice. I really didn’t think anything of it, and it’s not like I kissed her or anything. Can we just drop it?”

Newt gives a frustrated sigh, tapping his foot impatiently. Thomas can feel like there’s something building on the back of Newt’s throat, something that he’s trying to express but he can’t quite find the words. That’s usually Thomas’ problem, not his.

“Yeah. Sure, Tommy. We’ll drop it. I need a breather anyway.” 

Before Thomas can answer, Newt turns around and heads outside, slamming the door behind him. Thomas flinches at the impact.

Thomas knows he has to go out there and talk to him, try to figure out what’s causing him to blow up over such a tiny incident. They made a rule a long time ago about not going to bed angry, so he knows they’ll have to talk it out eventually. But he also knows that Newt is the type who needs time by himself to breathe and think things over, so he waits for a few minutes before leaving. 

When he finally opens the door, he sees Newt sitting on the metal steps, his hands fidgeting in his lap. Before he gets the chance to sit next to him, Newt speaks up.

“I have a reason for all this, you know.”

Thomas stays quiet, allowing Newt to speak his mind.

“So you know, we...well, we didn’t exactly have the easiest of starts when it came to our relationship. You know, how it took us months to admit how we felt and all that, and how I basically exploded when I did?”

“Of course.”

“Well, you know, in my head, I...I can get a little paranoid. Go down into some dark places, yeah?” Newt finally turns so he’s facing Thomas. “I know I’ve got Lola, and I’ve got you, and my meds, but it doesn’t always...not every day is good.”

Thomas nods. “Yeah, I know that.”

“But you don’t, Tommy, not really,” Newt assures, a slight edge to his voice. “I mean you support me, and I know it, and I appreciate it, really. But you never really  _ know _ . You never hear what goes on inside my head, especially when you’re not around. Before we dated, I pushed back every little hope I had of you liking me back. Even though, looking back, it was pretty obvious, I just...crushed it. I sabotaged myself into believing you could never love me back because it was easier than risking everything.

“And even now, even though we’ve been together for years and we’re practically living together, I can still hear that voice. The same one that told me that you would never love me, and it’s-it’s getting louder. Every day, the same thing. Thinking that the longer you’re with me, the more bored you’ll get of me. That you always brag about me to your friends so I can seem cooler than I really am. How you compliment my art so my depressive episodes can just seem like some motivation. And that one day, you’ll get sick of being with the same guy and go on to something better, something easier. Something that doesn’t get you yelled at on the street.”

“Newt, I feel like we’ve had this conversation before,” Thomas finally chimes in. And he’s right -- at Prom, Newt practically insisted that the two of them shouldn’t be together because of how hard it might be.

“Yeah, we have, but not like this. Not when...not when I see that you have options. All around us, there’s all these beautiful people. And they’re all so talented, and so smart, and so in tune with you. Meanwhile, I’m busy slaving away at my easel until we play the same video game for the millionth time. It’s starting to get real bad, Tommy.”

Newt stands up, keeping one hand on the railing for balance.

“I just...I can’t imagine how this could go on forever. I know when I said that high schoolers don’t fall in love, it was just a cover, but relationships from high school don’t last this long. And I’m really not that exciting. I just feel like you’ll inevitably find something better, and I’m just delaying it.”

Thomas can’t stand to listen to Newt anymore. He’s let him say his peace -- now it’s time to say his. He takes a step forward and pulls Newt by his free hand so he’s level with him, no longer on the stairs.

“Newt, you’re right about one thing. I don’t know what it’s like for you. I’ve had self doubt, and second-guessing, and insecurity, but I’ve never had thoughts dragging me down the way you do. I’ve never reached those dark corners where I couldn’t see myself crawling out. I’ve always been able to see the light. I’ve never known any other way.”

He holds both of Newt’s hands in his, feeling them tremble. He squeezes them, and tries to hold Newt steady.

“I hate seeing you like this. It’s not you. You’re  _ strong _ , Newt. You fell to the weakest point you could and you got back up. You worked hard, you made it through community college and now you’re here, on a  _ scholarship _ . You stay grounded in times when I would be falling through the floor, and you always know how to avert a crisis. You don’t fall apart even when you should. So I need you to know that the voice in your head? Okay, that voice is  _ bullshit _ . It tried to stop us from being together, and that didn’t work. And it’s trying to stop us from staying together, and that’s not gonna work either.”

“You can’t know that, Tommy,” Newt counters, sounding desperate. 

“Sure, maybe I can’t. But I can be pretty damn sure.”

Newt’s silent, seemingly searching for an answer he can’t find. His eyes move around rapidly, not being able to look at Thomas’ face for too long before finding some other point in the distance.

“Look, Newt, maybe we don’t stay together forever. Maybe you get offered a job in one state, and I get one in another, and we have to go our separate ways. Or maybe you’ll actually get bored of  _ me _ , and you’ll get tired of all my impulsive antics.”

A smile twitches at the corner of Newt’s lips; Thomas can imagine him saying “Never,” but knows it would be hypocritical.

“But right now, that doesn’t matter,” Thomas continues. “What matters is this moment, right here, outside of Room 126. There’s no art, there’s no labs. There’s no girl named Rachel, who can fuck off, for all I care. There’s just you, and me, and that’s all I’ll ever need, because you are absolutely  _ everything _ . Do you hear me?”

Newt finally settles his eyes on Thomas’, slightly watery and red. He gives a small nod, and squeezes Thomas’ hand so tightly it might burst. Thomas wouldn’t mind if it did.

“Okay,” Newt murmurs quietly. “Okay, Tommy, okay. I’m sorry.”

Thomas pulls Newt into a hug, his face buried into Newt’s neck.

“Nothing to be sorry for. I want you just the way you are, little voice and all.”

And Thomas pulls back and starts kissing Newt, and they’re kisses unlike any others they’ve had before, sad and sweet and aching and desperate and comforting all at the same time. It’s messy and salty and filled with a deep ache, an ache that hits Thomas right in his gut, an ache that tells him to pull Newt closer, kiss him until his lips fall off, kiss him until there’s nothing left in the world.

“You’re everything,” he murmurs against Newt’s lips, tugging on his shirt. “You’re everything.”

 

 

 

**Panic! At the Library**

It’s finals week of the first semester. Newt’s finals have mostly been papers and paintings, and the paintings are already finished. Right now, he sits at his desk, attempting to research links on art created by asylum inmates but accidentally finds himself watching Overwatch compilation videos instead.

Okay, maybe not accidentally, but watching one person wipe out an entire enemy team is much more satisfying than looking at the scribblings of schizophrenic people.

He’s seemingly in a trance of this rabbit hole he’s created for himself when he sees his phone light up out of the corner of his eye. Confused, he checks it, wondering who would be messaging him at midnight on a Sunday.

_ T: Newt I need some help I need some help _

 

_ N: What’s wrong?  _

 

_ T: I think I might have asthma or something _

 

_ T: Or maybe claustrophobia _

 

_ T: Or maybe I’m allergic to books _

 

_ T: Either way the room feels very small and it’s hard to breathe _

 

_ T: Any chance you have an inhaler???? _

 

_ N: Shit, I’m on my way _

 

Newt slams his laptop shut and grabs his keys, closing the door slowly so as not to wake Lola before sprinting down the metal steps towards the library.

Thomas has been in the library all day working on his last major lab; it’s the hardest one out of all of them, and required total concentration. He put Newt on a “No Contact” policy for the whole day, even turning his phone off so he could focus on the lab until it was finished. The fact that now Newt was suddenly getting texts from Thomas saying he couldn’t breathe scared him half to death. He knew that Thomas didn’t have asthma or claustrophobia, so it must be serious.

He finally makes it to the library and starts scanning each section, looking for any sign of Thomas. He doesn’t see him.

“ _ Shit _ ,” he hisses to himself before barreling downstairs.

He starts scanning the lower level, checking every aisle and table before finally seeing a flash of Thomas’ favorite blue hoodie through one of the closed off areas. The library has private little rooms, also called  _ cages _ , where students can have a private area to themselves to study. Newt sees Thomas behind one of the grated windows, clutching the desk so hard his knuckles are white.

Newt comes over and quickly enters the cage, shutting the door behind him and lowering the blinds so no one can see in. Thomas looks up from his seat, his eyes wide and blood-shot, his breaths fast and uneven.

“Tommy? Tommy, it’s Newt, can you hear me?”

Thomas blinks more times than necessary before answering.

“Yes. Yes, I can hear you, yes. Hello.”

“Tommy, what’s the matter? You sound like a broken record.”

“I-I-I-I don’t know,” Thomas stammers, slightly rocking in his chair. “One-one minute I was sitting here, typing up some statistics, and suddenly I thought, I thought, that-that, the numbers, they were all wrong, they were all…” Thomas’ breathing gets even faster, the pain in his eyes clearly visible. Newt suddenly realizes what’s happening; Thomas is having a panic attack.

He’s sure it started as an anxiety attack when Thomas texted him, but in the time it took Newt to get here it has expanded to a full-fledged panic attack. Despite all the many ways that Newt was fucked mentally, one thing he never experienced was panic attacks. He had anxiety, but like Thomas said, he always stayed grounded. He managed to keep his thoughts  _ internal  _ and rationalize them, even in a negative way. Even if it meant the world was ending, Newt was fine as long as he could make the thoughts rational and logical. He’s never experienced panic like this, but his training in Art Therapy classes give him an idea on how to help.

He kneels down so he’s eye-level with Thomas and places his hands in his lap, cupping them close and placing a light pressure on his legs so he stops rocking.

“Tommy, I want you to look at me, if you can.”

Thomas looks over at Newt, his eyes shaking slightly but attempting to focus.

“Okay, okay,” Thomas murmurs.

“Now, I want you to look at my face, and I want you to tell me what you see, in as great detail as you can. Even if it sounds stupid.

“Okay, yeah, um…” Thomas starts, his voice uneven. He starts scanning Newt’s face rapidly, not in the soft way he did outside of his room a few months ago, but now in a desperate search for some peace. “You have, you have two eyes.”

“That’s right, I have two of them. One, two. Two eyes. What color are they?”

“Um, brown. You have brown eyes.”

“Yes, keep going.”

Newt is using a tactic he learned called  _ distraction _ . To take someone down from a panic attack, one common method is to have them describe their surroundings and call back basic details, like the color of the sky or how many rocks are on the ground. Keeping the brain focused on simple tasks helps ease their way out from those panicked feelings.

“You have some freckles, on your cheeks.”

“Yes, you’re right, I do.” Newt squeezes Thomas’ hands slightly, and can sense that his breath is starting to even out. “You’re doing great.”

“Um, you also have, um, hair. It’s sandy blonde, and it’s, um, it’s curly.”

Newt takes one of Thomas’ hands and rubs them through his hair.

“You’re right, it’s curly. You can feel the curls, yeah?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Thomas murmurs, his eyes looking slightly less wide.

“You’re okay, you’re okay,” Newt repeats, rubbing Thomas’ hand with his thumb. “The world is not ending. How many ears do I have?”

“Two.”

“Yes. You’re going to be okay. Do I wear glasses?”

“No, I do.”

“Yes, you do, and you look adorable in them. You’re fine. You’re  _ fine. _ ”

Thomas lets out a deep breath, then takes a few more slow ones before gently placing his forehead against Newt’s. He closes his eyes and continues to take deep breaths.

“You’re fine, I’m right here, everything is okay,” Newt assures, keeping his voice low and calm. 

“I’m okay,” Thomas says, leaning into Newt. “I’m good.”

“Good.” Newt answers, holding the back of Thomas’ neck with his other hand. “Great. Welcome back.”

There’s a slight pause before Thomas speaks again.

“How do you always do that?”

“Do what?” Newt asks.

“Make the world right again. Stop the earth from spinning. And then make it spin, but in a good way.” Newt watches Thomas smile, and a warm relief spills through his chest, all the way to his fingertips.

“I just try to keep you steady,” Newt answers, giving Thomas a once-over to make sure he’s really okay. “Give you some facts. Let you know I’m here.”

“You’re always here for me, Newt.” Thomas says, finally opening his eyes, their foreheads still pressed together. “Always. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You’d be just fine. Now, come on, let’s go to bed. The numbers can wait.” Newt pulls apart from Thomas and stands up, packing Thomas’ papers into his backpack.

“Okay. That sounds great,” Thomas sighs.

They finish packing everything up. Newt’s about to turn towards the door before Thomas stops him, grabbing him by the waist and pulling him close.

“Newt,” Thomas says, more than a breath than an actual sound. He looks up at Newt with eyes so filled with compassion that it almost knocks the air out of Newt’s lungs. His looks at Newt with a softness that fills the air around them, as if they were floating in a haze. “I wish I told you how I felt sooner. All those years ago.”

“It’s okay,” Newt answers, studying the crinkles around Thomas’ eyes.

“Not really. I should have done it sooner because I went to spend every single moment with you. And I love you so much that it...it honestly scares me sometimes. More than some stupid lab.”

Newt gives a small smile. “I’m not scary.”

Thomas lets out a tiny chuckle. “Newt, you’re goddamn  _ terrifying _ . You could stop the apocalypse with just your voice, if you wanted. You can create worlds from your hands, anything you imagine. Anything you do, it just makes me fall for you more. That’s terrifying.”

Newt holds his hands over Thomas’ chest, feeling his heartbeat. Someone who is so into science really should have gone into poetry.

“I’m not scary,” Newt repeats, the warmth of Thomas’ body and the soft  _ thumping  _ of his heart sending shivers down Newt’s arms. “I’m just a person. I’m not a magical savior.”

“Sure,” Thomas replies, holding his hand over Newt’s and pressing it closer to his chest, “but we save each other.”

 

 

 

**Late Night Conversations**

“You really want to graduate early just for me?” Newt asks, smiling as he traces his hand along Thomas’ collarbone, his other hand rested on the small of his back as they lay together underneath the covers.

“Well, not  _ just  _ for you,” Thomas answers, laughing slightly. He glides his hand softly down the side of Newt’s leg, the touch lighter than a feather against his skin. “It won’t be hard, and the faster I get out of here, the quicker I can start getting internships and get ahead of the game. You know, beat the competition.”

“Like it’s a race,” Newt smiles, playing with Thomas’ hair. 

“Sort of, yeah.”

Newt sighs, the breath warm and sweet. “Always running, huh?”

“I’m not running right now,” Thomas remarks, his hands tracing circles on Newt’s chest. “I’m pretty okay right here.”

He leans forward and gives Newt a slow, sweet kiss, taking a moment to lick on his bottom lip slightly. He pulls back and looks up at Newt with a kindness that makes Newt’s chest ache, no matter how many times he sees it.

Newt takes a moment as he looks down at Thomas, memories of the last three years together playing out in his head. Spontaneous day trips to cute small towns, staying up until 2 AM playing Overwatch, going ice skating on an actual frozen pond. He even sees the fights they’ve had, over big things and little things, and the strange looks they still get from people on the street. And he remembers the day they met, when a certain dog just happened to grab the attention of someone who resembled the sun. Or maybe the stars? Newt wasn’t sure which. Maybe it was the whole damn galaxy.

“I remember…” Newt starts, giving Thomas another kiss, “when I never thought I’d be able to do this.”

“And I remember,” Thomas continues, kissing him back through a smile, “when I would daydream about this in French class.”

“Really?”

Thomas nods. “All the time.”

“No wonder you nearly failed the final.”

Thomas chuckles. “ _ Nearly  _ being the key word there.”

They kiss again, Thomas rubbing his hands along Newt’s face, his neck, his shoulders, down his arms to his hips, as if he’s remembering the days when this was all a dream in a classroom.

“Okay, maybe I lied,” Thomas interrupts, nuzzling Newt’s nose.

“About what?” Newt asks, eyebrows furrowed.

“I’m really just trying to graduate early so I don’t need to be without  _ this _ for another year.” He emphasises  _ this  _ by pulling Newt closer by the hip. “When I said I want to spend every moment with you, I meant it.”

“Every moment?”

“Every moment.”

“Even when I’m at the loo?”

“Sure, why not? It’s more fun together.”

“Oh, gross, Tommy.”

Thomas laughs hard, shaking the bed slightly. “We have to share the bathroom here, so it’s not exactly new.”

Newt giggles, massaging Thomas’ shoulder. “True. Okay, so what about when I’m doing taxes? You wanna be with me then?”

“I definitely should be, considering you’re horrible at math.”

“You’re right about that.”

Thomas smiles.

“What if I need to go shopping for an extremely specific type of pencil, would you want to be with me then?”

“We already do that. I think we did that last week.”

“Not true. We shopped for a paintbrush.”

“Okay, then you can be alone for the pencil.”

Newt chuckles. “Deal.”

They lay in silence for a couple of moments, softly tracing patterns into each other’s skin, with occasional soft kisses on mouths and foreheads and shoulders laced in between. Newt has no idea what time it is, and feels like there’s nothing outside of this room, just vast stars all around them, leaving them suspended in this moment. Thomas suddenly closes his eyes and snuggles into the pillow, and starts to fall asleep. Newt watches him for a few minutes, the calm image of the usually energetic Thomas both amusing and beautiful. Thomas speaks up once Newt thinks he’s fallen asleep.

“I’m gonna marry you one day,” he sighs into the bed, his hand laced with Newt’s underneath the blanket. “Not right now. But someday.”


	3. Ficlets: Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The last part of the ficlets; this includes a section from the original work through Thomas' point of view, so feel free to read them side by side if you're confused or just want to!

**Move Your Tassels**

The number of letters that come before E pale in comparison to the letters that come after E. It’s even worse when there are about 1000 more students than the last time Newt had to sit and watch people he barely knew walk across a stage.

Still, it is a little bearable knowing that there aren’t that many letters between E and I, so the jittery excitement as he waits for Thomas’ name to be called is short and sweet. 

“THAT’S MY BOYFRIEND!” he finds himself yelling, realizing now how proud Thomas must have felt to say it during their high school graduation.

And he is proud. He’s proud of himself for going from waking up in a hospital room to walking across the stage, degree in hand, internships lined up. He’s proud of Thomas for doubling up his workload, passing all of his finals without passing  _ out _ , still managing to graduate early, and is even proud of his mother, Sarah, for shaping up. The fact that him and Thomas are not only still together, but have now graduated college together, seems like something out of a fairy tale. These things aren’t supposed to happen in reality, but here they were. A walking “fuck you” to reality.

They find each other after the ceremony and embrace so tightly, Newt’s arms start to hurt. They pull back and Newt looks at Thomas, eyes shining and proud, and finds himself tearing up for reasons he’s not fully aware of. But he knows they’re happy tears.

They find their parents, who are also filled with happy tears. Newt’s mom, despite her relatively small stature, almost knocks them over when she sees them, running over at full speed.

“Newty! Tommy! You did it! Oh, what a beautiful day!”

Sarah joins in on the hug, Newt’s father laughing jovially in the background.

“Your father would be proud,” Sarah says to Thomas. Thomas stiffens, for a split second, before relaxing again into the embrace.

“I’m glad,” Thomas solemnly replies.

They go around and find their friends they’ve made over the last couple of years, Thomas having slightly more because he’s been there longer. Newt smiles as he remembers the days Thomas was afraid to go to parties, and here he was, surrounded by people who loved and cared about him. He watches as him and George share an emotional hug, despite how little Thomas actually stayed in his own dorm. Newt says goodbye to some of his friends, too, including the fiery-eyed freshmen he saw when he first was introduced to the gaming club.

“You better tell me when you’re senior show is coming up,” Newt tells her, pointing at her mockingly. “I want to be able to say I saw Brenda’s first show before she was famous.”

Brenda laughs heartily. “And you better tell me where the hell you settle down so I can come visit you and Thomas. And Lola.”

She looks down at Lola, who wags her tail happily, her own graduation cap placed on her head. Newt couldn’t convince the board to give her an honorary degree like some therapy dogs get, but he did manage to find her a dog-sized cap. 

“Will do,” Newt assures, giving her one last hug. 

Newt and Thomas’ parents drive back to their hotels, getting some rest before they come back tomorrow to help everyone move home. Newt and Thomas start packing their lives away, anxious but excited about what the future brings, together.

 

 

 

**Her Name’s Lola**

It’s the beginning of September. It’s one of those perfect days, when the world is just starting to transition into fall; the sun is warm and inviting, but the air is brisk and clean, beckoning Thomas to leave his messy room and come outside, for once.

Thomas wasn’t much of an outdoors guy. Sure, he loved running track, but he could do that indoors, too, and with air conditioning. Inside had his video games, his word searches, and his NCIS marathons. He saw no reason to leave.

But something, some strange force within him, told him to go outside today. And if Thomas knew anything about himself, it was that he trusted his gut feeling. It never let him down, and he figured today would be no different. 

So, following the pull at the bottom of his stomach, he decided to go to the park.

It’s not somewhere he went often, but it’s a nice place. It’s got a playground, lots of space, and even a dog park. Thomas preferred cats, generally, but it was always nice to see the dogs run around and have fun. He decided to take a stroll and enjoy the weather.

By the time he walks from his house to the park, he’s worked up a bit of an appetite. He spotted an ice cream vendor and got in line behind a blonde kid around his height. A few seconds passed before he felt something patting at his legs.

He looked down to see a young golden retriever, probably less than a year old. It’s fur was shiny and clean, and the smiling face couldn’t help but spread one to Thomas as well. He found himself impulsively bending over to pet the dog, who responded enthusiastically, jumping on his knees.

“Oh, hi there, girl!” Thomas greeted, even though he didn’t actually know what gender the dog was. She seemed to confirm the suspicion by licking his face, which made him laugh.

The owner, the blonde boy, took notice and turned around. 

“Her name’s Lola,” he said in a fascinating British accent. Thomas loved the sound of it. “She’s almost a year old. Golden retriever, if you couldn’t tell.”

“She’s adorable,” Thomas replied, looking up to meet the stranger. He couldn’t fully see the details of his face, the sun casting a halo around the boy’s golden hair, but he could see enough. He had sharp features and a kind smile, with an appearance that reminded Thomas strangely of elves. He was almost majestic looking. Thomas remembered to keep talking before he started staring. “I’m usually more of a cat person, but this sweet little thing has won my heart, yes she has!”

The blonde boy laughed, a sweet and beautiful sound that sent a quick shiver down Thomas’ arms. “A cat person? I wouldn’t have guessed, seeing the way you’re petting her.” He bent down and also started petting Lola.

Thomas looked back up, hoping to get a better look at this new acquaintance. Now that he could see him fully, he realized that he’d seen this boy before, in his school. He remembered it clearly; he was walking in between classes to his locker when he heard some quiet music playing from one of the classrooms. He paused and turned to look inside, and spotted a kid, this blonde boy, drawing on an easel. The drawing was incredible; an angel falling from heaven, flames burning his wax wings. Icarus.

Thomas found himself mesmerized by the drawing, and watched for a few minutes as the boy drew, his arm moving smoothly across the canvas, a work of art in itself. Dust shone and danced through the room, like a spotlight shining on him. Thomas quickly snapped back to reality before darting back to his locker.

“Hey, do you go to Evans High?” he asked, even though he already knew the answer. “I think I’ve seen you in the halls.” He added that last part in to make him sound less creepy.

The boy gave a small, slightly confused smile in return. 

“I do, actually,” he answered, offering his hand. “The name’s Newt. Newt Edison.”

Thomas shook his hand, noticing the surprising roughness of his palm. “Thomas Isaacs.”

_ Newt _ , he thought to himself.  _ Weird name. _

They kept petting Lola, who seemed absolutely elated at the attention she was receiving. Thomas reflected on Newt’s strange name, and realized where he’d seen it before.

“I think I’ve seen your art up in the lobby,” he said, remembering when the Icarus piece was finally hung up. When he looked and saw  _ Newt  _ scribbled in the corner, he remembered thinking he read it wrong. “You’re like, wicked talented.”

Newt turned away, Thomas noticing a redness on his cheeks. 

“Oh, uh, thanks,” he stammered, seemingly modest.

“I mean it,” Thomas added, suddenly struck with an urge to be sincere to Newt. He looked in his eyes to show him he meant this. “I’ve seen your drawings. Your portraits, still lifes. They’re amazing.”

Newt smiled back at him, and Thomas was struck again with just how  _ majestic  _ he really looked. A warmth radiated off of him that crawled its way into Thomas’ skin, filled him through to the bones. Something about this kid felt magical, felt magnetic. Thomas couldn’t explain it, and that scared him a little.

“Thanks, Thomas,” Newt replied softly. “Means a lot.”

Thomas returned the smile, happy to see that he brightened Newt’s day. He liked how Newt looked when he was happy.

They kept petting Lola for a few more seconds before the vendor spoke up in a thick Spanish accent.

“Hey, are you gonna buy something, or what? You’re holding up the line.”

Thomas snapped out of his trance and looked behind him, noticing the increasing group of agitated park-goers. Thomas couldn’t help but blush as he gave a sheepish smile to Newt, who returned it.

Newt moved up to the line, Thomas watching as his hair ruffled in the September breeze. He couldn’t hear what they were saying, but the vendor seemed to be laughing. He wondered why.

Newt stepped to the side as he unwrapped his newly purchased ice cream sandwich. Thomas’ stomach growled in envy.

Something else spoke inside of him, too. That same pull from before, that told him to come outside today. That told him to come to this exact place, at this exact time, on this exact day, where he just so happened to run into the magical boy who drew the fallen angel. He wasn’t sure what his gut was saying, exactly, but he knew that it was being pulled to this magnetic boy.

“Hey, Newt!” he finds himself calling out before he can stop himself.

Newt turned around. “What is it?”

Thomas paused before continuing. “I’ll see you around, yeah?”

Thomas wasn’t sure what he meant. Will he see him in school? At this park? Either way, Thomas wanted the answer to be  _ yes. _ Which terrified him.

Newt also paused before giving a firm nod. “Yeah. I’ll see you.”

Thomas returned the nod, a strange relief filling his lungs yet causing the tips of his fingers to tremble. Thomas felt this way around handsome boys, sometimes. But never like this. What did it mean? Envy? Anger? Confusion?

His stomach growled again, and he turned back to the vendor.

“I’ll have the same thing.”

  
~  
  


A week went by without seeing Newt. Thomas found himself passing the same classroom he saw Newt in the first time, when he was drawing Icarus, but found only an empty space. He felt strangely disappointed.

Despite the fact that they talked for only a few minutes, the blonde left a noticeable imprint on Thomas. Thomas found himself reading the story of Icarus, of the angel who flew too close to the sun and burned his wax wings, falling down to Earth. He wondered what inspired Newt to draw it, wished he could ask him himself. He tried to remember how his voice sounded, all British and soothing. He imagined that he could listen to him tell stories for hours, or fall asleep to it. It’s a comforting voice, for a comforting presence. 

So when next Saturday came around, Thomas felt that scary tug in his gut again. He used to trust his gut seamlessly, knowing that wherever it led him must be somewhere he needed to be. 

But he didn’t know why he needed to go to the park again.

It wasn’t like he had a dog to go to the dog park with. He was a little old to be playing on the playground. He just had ice cream last night, and he could only imagine walking around some grass could only be exciting for so long.

But still, that feeling was there. It’s like someone tied a rope around his stomach and was lightly tugging at it from some distance. His feet started moving without him telling them to, and he found himself walking to the park, this strange, magical place.

He was without a dog, but found himself in the dog park, anyway. He watched the dogs run around, caught the shining golden color of one familiar little pup. Realization hit him, and he quickly scanned the park until he spotted Newt, sitting on one of the benches, reading something in his lap. 

And there it was, again. That tug. That blasted tug. It sent Thomas’ heart racing. Is this why he came here? To see Newt? It couldn’t be. Sure, he was handsome, but it’s not like Thomas was planning on doing anything about that. He was still getting over his last breakup with Teresa, which didn’t end smoothly.

Still, he stood there, watching Newt read, his mind racing. Does he say hi? Sit down? Go to Lola? He doesn’t want to seem like a stalker, but he had already come all the way down here. He couldn’t imagine turning around now. His feet wouldn’t let him.

So he let his gut pull him. He doesn’t think about why, or where he’s going, or how he seems. He took a seat next to Newt, who looked up. Thomas waved.

“Heya.”

  
~  
  


Thomas will listen to his gut for a few more months. He’ll follow it to the park every week, to the same bench, to the same boy. He’ll follow it to that boy’s house, to his couch, to his room, to the darkest and brightest parts of him. He tells himself that he finally figured out what his gut was trying to tell him; that he found a new friend. A friend he could go to to escape the hell of his messy home. A safe haven.

But he’s wrong. That’s not what his gut was trying to tell him.

He realized it for the first time when he watched Newt draw, his eyes focused, his teeth biting and peeling the skin back from his lips. It mesmerized Thomas, distracted him from his pressing homework. He watched Newt’s lips move, found himself wondering what the skin tasted like, how it would feel against his own.

He would be scared at the thought, but he was too entranced.

His gut tells him to get up and look at Newt’s lips for bleeding, gently running his hands over his lips, heart hitched in his throat. He knows he’s not bleeding.

His gut tells him to stop doing his homework and keep watching Newt draw. To keep imagining the taste of his lips even when he’s stopped biting them.

His gut tells him again, and again, and  _ again _ , to please, for the love of  _ god,  _ Thomas, listen to me again. You used to listen to me and now all you do is run the opposite way that I tell you to go. You run back to the girl who looks at you with knowing eyes that makes your heart break. You run back to safety. To routine. To staying inside the walls. 

His gut tells him to kiss Newt. He’s thought of boys as handsome but never  _ this  _ handsome, by god. His gut always told him it was too dangerous to think anything more, but this,  _ this _ , was a good kind of dangerous. An electric thrill that thrummed his heart whenever they were together.

It’ll be months before Thomas finally listens to his gut again. When he follows his gut every night to the park, waiting for an angel to show up, waiting for a miracle. He goes there every night without thinking, following someone who isn’t even there yet. He listens to his gut when a magical, magnetic boy tells Thomas the words he’s been  _ begging  _ to hear. That he’s been begging himself to say.

And this time, when he listens to his gut, he never stops. He gets to the end of the rope, and he stays there, and he never lets go.

He would follow Newt anywhere.

And he has.

 

 

 

**The End**

Newt sits at his desk, typing up a session plan for one of his patients. He’s currently the assistant to a noted psychologist in the realm of Art Therapy, who is graciously letting him take over for one session. Newt will finally get the opportunity to help someone through creating, something that has kept Newt passionate for as long as he can remember. He’s so excited that he finds himself typing away at his keyboard faster than usual.

It’s a quiet night in him and Thomas’ apartment. He can hear the sounds of a basketball being dribbled next door in the community court, and watches as car headlights dance across the walls of his room, the soft  _ woosh  _ of them passing on the road strangely calming. To think, he’s living in an apartment (a small and slightly shabby one, but an apartment) with the one he loves more than anything, who he never thought he could have, let alone  _ keep _ . 

To think that he’s still alive. That he hasn’t given into the darkness of his mind. That he is completely, genuinely, happy.

It’s a miracle.

He imagines what would have happened if those pills had killed him, sometimes. How his parents would have felt broken. How his friends, like Minho and Alby, would have been left hurt and confused. How he never would have met Thomas, had died without knowing what it’s like to fully love another human being with everything you have.

He’s so glad the pills didn’t kill him. So glad that it burns.

Newt keeps typing away at his laptop, images and ideas of possibilities for this patient running through his mind. It feels great to put his passion for art to a practical use.

He hears Lola come in through the little doggy door they built into the space of the extremely small office. It’s not actually an office, but it’s where the desks are, so that’s what they call it.

Lola trots forward, slower in her older age, and waits patiently next to Newt, the bottle of antidepressants in her mouth.

Newt saves his progress and takes the bottle from Lola, lovingly rubbing her head.

“Thanks, girl. You never forget, huh?”

Lola barks in response. She’s never forgotten.

Newt empties the bottle into his hand, surprised when no pills come out.

Instead, what comes out is a tiny, purple, plastic ring. The type you would get at an arcade, per say.

Newt holds it in his palm, his eyebrows furrowing. Is this some sort of prank? A way for Thomas to tell him he wants to go to the arcade again? Laughing quietly to himself, he gets up and walks to the office door, opening it.

He’s stopped short from walking anymore when in front of him, in the doorway, Thomas is on one knee, a small, velvet box in his hand.

Newt shakes his head and blinks, taking everything in. Thomas is suddenly in a tuxedo, which he was not wearing 30 minutes ago when Newt last saw him. Behind Thomas, he sees something hung up by pins, which he realizes are the drawings that he made of Thomas back in high school, when they first met. It feels like lifetimes ago.

He looks back down at Thomas, who gives a small, nervous smile.

“I know that’s a nice ring,” Thomas starts, nodding towards the plastic one in Newt’s hand. “But I thought you might like this one better.”

Thomas opens the velvet case and, sure enough, an engagement ring is inside, nothing incredibly fancy or expensive but still, a ring. A  _ ring.  _

Newt is frozen. He remembers Thomas, half-asleep, proclaiming that he would marry Newt one day. The topic hasn’t been discussed since then, but it’s always burning in the back of Newt’s mind, itching at his throat. 

He just wasn’t exactly prepared.

“I…” Newt starts. “Wh-”

“I know this isn’t exactly a grand spectacle,” Thomas admits, shrugging sheepishly. “But I wanted to surprise you. In private, just the two of us. Well, three of us.” He motions to Lola, silently sitting behind Newt, strangely aware of the situation, as always. Thomas continues.

“And I kept thinking of different ways to do it, where we’re out at dinner and everyone is clapping or we’re ‘stuck’ at the top of a ferris wheel. But they all felt wrong somehow. I just had this feeling, in my gut, that I just had to...do it.”

“Uh-huh,” Newt murmurs, the feeling just starting to make its way back to his body, starting with his trembling fingers.

“So, I’m doing it,” Thomas adds. “I’m just...god, Newt. You’re the best fucking thing to ever happen to me.” He laughs in slight disbelief. “And I almost let you slip by. I think about that all the time. How I almost let you go.” A pause. “I’m so glad I didn’t. Newt, you’re so beautiful, and sweet, and caring, and just... _ good. _ You’re  _ good _ , Newt, it’s like you invented the word, you’re so good.”

Does Newt know what gravity is? He isn’t sure. His body is static electricity, hair standing up, nerves on end. He can’t feel the ground. He remembers the story of Icarus, the fallen angel who fell because he flew too close to the sun. He realizes now that that story is a myth, because the sun is right here but he’s not going anywhere. If anything, he’s floating. 

“And I just want to…” Thomas continues, his voice shaking slightly. “I just want you to know that. And I want to make you happy. I want you to always feel like you have a safe place to land. You’re so freaking selfless Newt, I mean, you’re literally making a career on making other people happy. You’re majestic.”

You’d think that when you date someone for over six years that you’d learn to stop blushing around them. That isn’t always the case. Newt thinks his skin tone is now permanently pink.

“And if you’re okay with only being with one guy the rest of your life, then I…” Thomas pauses, smiling, shining, perfect perfect perfect. “I am more than willing to be that guy.”

Newt smiles, feels his body getting struck by lightning in the best way possible. Magic is real, miracles are real, fairy tales are real, fuck you reality, fuck you multiverse theory, this is the only one that matters.

“So, Newt, you goddamn angel…” Thomas says. “Will you marry me?”

BOOM! It’s a thunderstorm! A tornado is sweeping Newt away, carrying him into the sea of  _ forever _ .

He starts nodding so fast that he must look ridiculous, like a bobble head, and Thomas lets out a laugh that sounds like a sob, as if he’s 16 again and the world finally got taken off his shoulders with a few words. Thomas takes the ring out of the box and slides it onto Newt’s finger, knowing that that’s exactly where it belongs.

Newt drags Thomas up by the arm, practically ripping it out of the socket, and kisses him clumsily, as if he’s 17 again and the world finally started making sense for once with a few simple kisses.

Not simple, actually, their kisses have never been simple. Even the lightest of pecks is filled with the intensity of knowing that reality wants them to break apart. Every brush of their lips makes Newt feel like he’s flipped upside down. The world is a mess, a tricky maze to work around, but there’s one thing that Newt knows, and understands, and it’s  _ this.  _ He holds on to Thomas’ suit jacket and thinks  _ thank you, thank you, thank you _ . He’s not sure who he’s thanking, but he does it all the same.

Thomas pulls back, and Newt notices the tear streaks staining his cheeks, follows them down to his soft smile. He lets out another laugh-sob as he looks down at the ring again, traces it with his thumb.

“Thank god you said yes,” Thomas chuckles, squeezing Newt’s hand. “It would have been pretty embarrassing if you hadn’t.”

Newt also laughs. “I can’t believe this just happened. On a Wednesday night, in our hallway.”

“Listen, I’ll redo it if you want,” Thomas offers, his tone joking but his eyes serious, as if he really would redo the whole proposal if it would make Newt happy.

Newt shakes his head. “No, Tommy, it was perfect. You’re perfect. This is perfect.”

  
~  
  


He went from waking up in a hospital bed to waking up in Thomas’ arms. From feeling alone to being surrounded by friends. From being hopeless to happy. He’s a walking “fuck you” to reality.

This all started because of Lola. Lola, and the newest Batman series. Therapy dogs and comic books. Look where they’ve gotten him. Look what they’ve  _ given  _ him.

He starts thinking of their wedding. Of his mother’s smile, of Minho’s DJ-ing, of how beautiful Teresa will look in her “bridesmaid’s” dress. Of how miracles can come true, they can, and how there’s always hope, always.

He would think about  _ where  _ the wedding should be, but he already has an idea.

There’s a pretty nice park nearby.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it! I'm officially done writing this version of Thomas and Newt. I hope whoever read this enjoyed it, even though it's been two years. Thanks for the support, everyone!


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